Optimism schmoptimism, I say. So far, forty has not been so hott. Thank you, to those who left them, for the birthday and recovery wishes. However, my birthday did not rock. It actually sucked quite spectacularly.
I ended up doing nothing on my actually birthday besides working. Oh, and I went to the hospital again. You know, when I discovered I had shingles I read up on it and concurred with the consensus that the pain is often severe. But holy hell in a handbasket,...I can't believe how whacked out I am on painkillers and yet, STILL the stabby burney fire-jab manages to punch through my nauseous druggy haze. Some of my rash is starting to fade up, but I've got blisters in the worst parts. I was hoping that as the rash recedes so would the pain, but so far that's not the case. I just feel like shit.
So Saturday I got a text from one of my friends that she was coming into town and wanted to meet to celebrate my birthday. I only get to see her a few times a year, and we usually try to have dinner around each other's birthdays. So I agreed.
I know the saying, "It's the thought that counts" but seriously, if YOU'RE not going to put any amount of thought into giving your friend a gift, I think there should be an amendment of: "but, if you're being thoughtless then don't even bother." I got a couple presents this year that when I opened I realized there was no possible way whatsoever that the gift-giver had walked into a store, picked up the thing they would then wrap up and give to me and think, "ZOMG!! Jelly is going to LOVE this! This is just what Jelly needs!" unless it turns out that what they think I need is crap. And I wish I could be honest (yet rude) and say, after I open their crap "What exactly the hell is this?" and furthermore, "Who first gave YOU this crap that you are totally re-gifting to me?"
So we ended up having dinner at my friend's restaurant and toward the end of the night I headed over to talk to her. I had to give her a business card I'd tucked in my wallet, and as I grabbed the wallet out of my bag and left the table my crap-gifting friend said "Ohhh, thanks for dinner Jelly!" I stopped short and said "Seriously?" hoping she was joking. She was not! Ha! So I got to take my shingley self out, get gifted crap AND buy dinner. AWESOME!
As we were leaving I grabbed the 500ml bottle of diet coke I hadn't opened and stuck it in my new oversized bag that I hate. It's the first time I've ever owned one of these big over-the-shoulder messenger style bags, and it's going to be my last. It's like a black hole and I spend most of my day with my head stuck in it rooting around for my stuff. So I'm walking along after dinner and notice suddenly that my thigh feels wet. What the fuck?
The unopened bottle had somehow opened itself (or more likely, my crap gifting non-dinner-buying friend had helped herself to a sip and hadn't fastened the lid on properly) and more than half the contents were now splashing around in my stupid giant bag.
This is the stupid giant bag that's continuously hiding my wallet, cellphone, digital camera, and MP3 player; all things that do not enjoy a bubbly carbonated drink like I do. So all those things excepting the wallet (which actually wasn't too bad off) are in their respective repair shops and it's unclear if they'll survive. If not, that'll mean I'm out about 850 bucks for the night, including the dinner I bought.
Yet the re-gifted crap came out unscathed - as it was wrapped up safe in a plastic bag.
Easter With Five of Our Grandkids
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